


God of the Dead, Father of the Never-Alive

by ishouldwritethatdown



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Canon Temporary Character Death, Childbirth, Gen, Pre-Canon, nothing too graphic but she is pushing a whole baby out so you know reader discretion advised
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28049046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishouldwritethatdown/pseuds/ishouldwritethatdown
Summary: Cerberus stands guard for the most private chambers of the House of Hades, on the day (or night) that the Prince is expected to arrive. His Lord and Master, equipped only to deal with matters of the dead and not the soon-to-be-alive, departs the House in search of divine aid. Every one of the Underworld's resources is diverted tonight (or today) and the dead will have to rule themselves for the time being, for their King first and foremost is a husband and, if all turns out well as Nyx can only hope it does, a father.
Relationships: Hades & Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Hades/Persephone (Hades Video Game), Nyx & Persephone (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 148





	God of the Dead, Father of the Never-Alive

Mortals prayed to his sister and nieces when things went wrong this way. Hades had never, not once, wished for any of his Olympian relatives to intervene in the affairs of the Underworld. This was his domain, and he would not allow their influence to spread from the realm of mortals, where they were adored so, into his home. Once the Olympians had spent their playthings, they were to be cared for here, under his watch. It was the arrangement they had made eons ago, and one which Hades could not break even if it were not against his very nature to do so.

He was, however, an expert in contracts. He knew how to exploit loopholes. His steps shook the waters of the Styx as he approached, and Charon dipped his head. “Hhhhhghghhh,” he said.

“Quickly,” he snapped, and the boatman’s ferry rocked under his weight, giving even a slight shudder itself at the boom of his voice. Charon complied and began to row with force. The chambers of the Underworld were a blur as he took them past. Hades closed his eyes, and tried not to hear the cries he had left in the House. His memory was perfect and infallible, but just once he would not have minded it were not only mortals who could be soothed by the waters of Lethe.

When the boatman spoke again, it was to tell him they were approaching their destination. As he stood, empty-handed shades clamoured at Charon for passage, and he ignored them. Some skittered back and shrouded themselves in darkness when Hades placed his flaming steps ashore, but not others. He paid them no mind either.

“Hecate,” he said.

He felt the shift in the folds of the realm as the goddess appeared. She did not step out of the dark as Nyx did, but bent the fabric of the Underworld so that it was as if she had always been standing where she was. “Yes, Lord of the Dead?”

“I require… a keyhole,” he told her. “Such that one might peer through, and pass words back and forth.”

She considered this, and surveyed the shore of the River Styx in a leisurely manner. “Have you sacked Hermes?”

“This is urgent, Hecate,” he pressed.

She did not waver under his scowl. “I didn’t have to come when you called, you know.”

“I know that very well, and I do not have time for your impertinence today. Or night,” he snapped. “This is not a matter that can be trusted to Hermes. I require a direct line to Olympus. And besides… Hermes gives me a headache.” He could feel one coming on now, as a matter of fact, but that was likely a result of how close he was to the edge of his realm. It so disliked for him to leave.

Hecate studied his face, and said at last, “It is Queen Persephone.” She had concern in her voice.

All of his hot-tempered jabs died in his throat. He ought to explain the terms of what he wanted Hecate to do, the very strict limits he wanted on his relatives’ peering into the Underworld. Instead, all he could bring himself to say was, “Yes.” There was no use asking how Hecate knew what was happening in the House of Hades. He had long suspected that Cerberus’ six eyes were also her own, and in any case she was sensitive to crossroads such as this. Ones which played with the Fates’ design.

Hecate told him that she would not be able to seal the keyhole once he made it, not completely. Hide it, perhaps – Nyx could fold it into darkness, obscure its presence, but sooner or later someone would find it, exploit it. That day might mark the beginning of the end for the Underworld as it was. Hades knew this. He did not care. He forced himself not to care.

The keyhole was designed as he specified it, just outside the gates of the House. No one could know it was Persephone in peril, even that they aided his Queen in heeding his request. But he made the plea all the same. To Artemis, to Hebe, to Eileithyia. He greeted them as cordially as he was able, feeling a peculiar and unsettling tightness in his throat. He had no great desire to bond with his nieces, but he knew their power. If they could not save the child and the mother, they would save one. The Fates had woven their thread for the heir of Hades that was never to be, and he would not ask the goddesses to defy them, but Fate had no design yet for Persephone.

When the young goddesses gave him no answer, he steeled himself and sent one more prayer. Mortals could spend lifetimes in devotion to the gods and never receive the blessings they craved, but he did not have that kind of time. And, blast it, he should not _need_ it. He was born of Titan blood just as his brothers and sisters were. “Hera,” he said. “Sister. You must grant me your aid. One in my care bears child, and the birth is proving… difficult. This is not a place for such things. Only death. I ask that you grant your blessing to the mother, help her survive the ordeal.” He exhaled through his nose, felt his breath running hot. “Please,” he added. And though he had resolved to divulge no such information, he crumbled under the weight of his worry, and said, “I ask this of you as a devoted husband. You understand what my home means to me – that I would invite you into it out of love for my wife is no trifle.”

He was met with silence. When a voice came to him, it was only the echo of Hecate, anticipating his hot-tempered questions of whether she had done what he demanded of her. “Your calls for aid are reaching Olympus, my friend. I am afraid that no one is listening.”

He clenched his fists. The goddess of childbirth and family, of marriage, cared not for the House of Hades. Now he had a hole in his realm, and for what? “Blast you, sister,” he rumbled.

All of a sudden in place of Hecate, Nyx was at his back. “She calls for you,” she said.

All he had to show for his efforts was the sensation that his heart had been paralysed by a gorgon’s stare. He could not return empty-handed to Persephone, tell her he had failed as a husband, as a… father. “I am the god of the dead,” he said. “What good can you suppose I can do for her now? The Underworld is not a place life is supposed to spring from.”

“She asks for you all the same,” she said. “Not as her saviour, Lord Hades, but as her husband.” She melted back into the darkness, leaving him to his choice. He wondered how much she knew of the paths her daughters had woven for them.

***

“Hades,” the Queen sobbed. Nyx didn’t think she was doing it consciously any more – it was the shape her mouth had learned to make these last hours, as she cried for her husband. Nyx had assured her time and time again that the King was searching for a way to help her, but her words of comfort now gave way to other soothing; touches and hushes and the sense, if nothing else, that _someone_ was here with her. It seemed Persephone was not capable of understanding much else in her state. Still, she cried for Hades.

“I’m here,” he said, given a shortcut by the Lady Hecate so that he could kneel by his Queen’s bedside and envelop her hand in his. “I am sorry, my love. I could not find what I set out for.”

Persephone did not hear what he said, or if she did, she did not care. “Hades…” She was beaming at him, tears streaming down her face – then more pain, and it twisted into a grimace. Hades’ hands tightened, and he might very well have been crushing her hand, but she didn’t register it.

If there were days and nights in the Underworld, Nyx felt that many should have passed since the Queen’s labour started. It appeared as if the child might be trying to emerge feet-first. Their relative smallness because of the prematurity of the birth was of no consequence – the amount of pain that Persephone was in, she might have been trying to expel a mountain from her womb. Golden godly blood stained towels and bedsheets, making skin slick. Nyx could feel Hecate channelled through the power she was using to keep Persephone alive, goddess of magic and the state between life and death.

When she dizzied, Hades released Persephone’s hand and took her place without a word. His huge hands were hesitant, but gentle, and when his wife realised he was gone from her side and felt around for his presence, the beginnings of distress in her whimpers, he spoke softly to her. “You are the goddess of spring,” he murmured. “From the depths of winter’s cold, you bring warmth and light. Life may blossom in the realm of the dead, Persephone, so long as you remember this.”

Nyx took her hand in his place and felt it burning hot. Shades who hid their faces and flitted from view brought fresh towels, pomegranate juice, everything they could to help without either Nyx or Hades sending for them. Cerberus stood vigil at the door to the bedchambers, and barked away at all those deemed unhelpful.

“He is coming,” Hades said.

Nyx was distracted from the hypnos she was attempting to flow steadily into Persephone. “He?”

He nodded, eyes still intent. When she saw his hands, she startled. “Lord Hades, your hands—!"

“I am fine,” he cut her off. His palms and fingers were riddled with blisters, welts where the child’s burning feet, matching his father’s, had seared his skin. Still he held on. He tore his eyes away only for the briefest moment to meet Nyx’s eyes. “He lives,” he said. The child’s chest was rising and falling though his head was not yet free, and Hades must be able to feel his heartbeat through his skin.

For a short while, there was hope.

Persephone was more awake by the time the child ought to have been taking his first breaths. He was making the motions, trying to gasp air in, but for all Nyx’s urging, it would not fill his lungs. Persephone gave him the name Zagreus and held him until his feet faded and cooled. Hades washed the gleaming ichor from his hands and would not meet anyone’s eyes.

Over the next days (or nights) the House of Hades was in mourning. Every shade and house-servant felt the loss of the young Prince, but none dared speak of it to Lord Hades. He punished those who appeared most solemn and bade his clerks work harder. All things were pushed from his attention but his work, his duty to the Underworld. He did not allow the burns on his hands to heal completely. Shades whispered about gold splotches staining his parchmentwork after days (or nights) of endless writing.

He did not come when Persephone cried for him – not while she was awake. He could not face her, could not face his failure to save their son, as he saw it. Nyx knew that Persephone only wanted her husband, thought not of any shortcoming of his. But her observations would not be welcome to the Lord of the Dead’s ears, who demanded absolute silence on the subject of his son, and Lady Persephone did not believe her when she said no one blamed her for Zagreus’ Fate.

“You warned me,” she sobbed, “you all warned me he would not survive, but I thought… if I had become accustomed to it, here…”

It was those words that propelled Nyx into action, in secret. She dared not speak a word of it to either the Queen or the King, in case she should fail. To have hope ripped away so violently once again would be cruel, and rain wrath down upon every shade in the Underworld. If she could pour enough of her Darkness into the child, bring out of him qualities death-like and undying as she had when she created Thanatos and Hypnos, perhaps he could live again.

Persephone had long left the Underworld by the time Nyx told Hades of what she had attempted. He raged at her, flaring hot, and was prepared to unleash on her all the pain deserving of one who would speak of his son to him, when she told him what it was she needed. Zagreus could not survive on Darkness alone, as this realm was not hers alone any longer. Nor could his veins, made for red mortal blood, hold the ichor of the gods which gave them life. But he needed something of his father to bind him to the Underworld, keep him from the liminal space between death and life. Hecate cared for him there as best she could, held him together and kept his dormant soul company, but it was no life. He would not grow into a god of in-between spaces in that state. He would be little more than a lost shade.

Nyx wasn’t sure Hades would do as she asked, but on the growing list of things never to be discussed in the House of Hades – the Prince first, then the Queen – was added the absence of Lord Hades’ right eye. It did not stay gone for long, growing back of its own volition, and all were encouraged to forget the incident had ever happened. Little Hypnos spread a rumour that it was skewered out by a Titan trapped in Tartarus despite Nyx’s warnings to cease the gossip, but eventually the entire ordeal was written off as one of her son’s tall tales.

When young Zagreus was presented to the House, blinking up at his father with one green eye and one black and red, the shades of the Underworld were too busy excitedly circulating the news of Lord Hades’ new heir to remember the missing eye that had suddenly healed one night (or day). Nyx named herself as his mother, and no one who could sense the Darkness pouring off the Prince questioned it.

The first time the young Prince fell into the River Styx, Hades’ voice could be heard through the whole House. “ **ZAGREUS!** ”

Hypnos startled awake and shades skittered out of the way as he thundered down the Great Hall to the Pool of Styx. Cerberus was scanning the water with all six eyes, whining with his tails between his legs (it had been his game with the Prince, after all, that caused him to fall in). Hades reached under the surface with one huge hand, and lifted Zagreus out by his robes.

“Father!” he exclaimed with wide eyes, dripping wet. “We were just playing.”

He placed him down upright – there was a sizzling as the Styx water was pressed against his burning feet - and took the boy’s cheeks between his finger and thumb. The Styx was not meant to be swum by mortals, but there were no signs of burns on his skin, or his one lively green eye. When he had finished surveying him for damage, he said, “What were you thinking, boy? The Styx is not a plaything. You disrupt my work.”

“Sorry, Father,” he said guiltily.

“Nyx, I expect you to keep better control of your son,” he said to the shadows behind him.

Her voice reverberated from them. “Yes, Lord Hades.”

The most affectionate of Cerberus’ heads licked Zagreus’ face, and he giggled. They bounded off together to cause chaos in some other part of the House, and his restrained sigh turned into a grumble.

The water of the Styx lapped against the steps of the House as it slowly settled once again. The river goddess was a friend of Hecate’s, the very embodiment of the space between the Underworld and the mortal realm. She had carried Charon's boat to Hecate when he sought her that day, had cradled Zagreus when he lay between life and death. Hades ought to have known that she would not allow any harm to come to him.

“We will make sure he always gets home safely, Lord Hades,” said Hecate, her disembodied voice reaching his ears alone.

“Hm.” With that, the god of the dead turned back to his desk, and returned to work.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my attempt to piece together bits of canon from what we learn about Zagreus' birth and re-birth. Zagreus tells Orpheus that his feet burned Hades' hands when he was born, and Persephone refers to his feet sputtering out after a difficult birth, hence the feet-first breech. I figure Hades had to be holding Zag's feet for pretty long to get burned, since they're both flame resistant. Seriously though I know she's a goddess but I'm concerned that Persephone carried this baby with actual flaming feet in her womb. Clearly she wasn't okay but _was she okay?_ you know. Also, I decided to work in something about how the Olympians have that little look-in on Zagreus when he's outside the House, and I like Hecate so I made her important. I hope you liked it!


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